


Pale Bondage Tea Party

by asterCrash



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Human Furniture, Pale Porn, Praise Kink, Quadrant Confusion, Rope Bondage, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterCrash/pseuds/asterCrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the box, Aradia ties Feferi up and has a feelings jam to remember.<br/>Guest starring Sollux as the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Bondage Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capitola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capitola/gifts).



“Just the perfect weather for a party don’t you think? It’s a shame we didn’t have any corpses on hand but I suppose a tea party is just as good as a corpse party when you realise the tea leaves used to be alive as well!”

You struggle to reply through the cloth gag tied through your mouth but your efforts are only rewarded with a puff of air exhaling through your gills. You’ll have to think of more creative ways to tell Aradia to go fuck herself. You attempt to flip her the flapbeast, however your arms are still securely tied behind your back. You try to kick your legs like a petulant wiggler but they’re fastened by coiling lengths of silky smooth rope to the legs of the chair you’re seated in. She tied you tightly, you don’t even have the freedom of movement to close your legs, so instead you’re stuck here, hips splayed open and groin exposed to the fresh spring air. You feel naked in a way that has nothing to do with your outfit. 

The garment you’d picked out for the occasion is an ostentatious affair that was popular in the years immediately prior to the summoner rebellion. Aradia had loved it the first time you’d showed it off. It appears her apathy towards fashion is easily nullified by her love of old things. She’d promptly had Kanaya whip her up a replica in her own colours, even though the sight of a rust blood wearing such a sophisticated number back then would have had monocles popping all over town. Kanaya’s ectobiological mother-in-law (none of those words would have made any sense to you three sweeps ago) had been present while Aradia was modeling Kanaya’s creation and commented that it bore a striking resemblance to earth fashion from the Victorian period, though the Alternian take was, in her words, “1000% sluttier”. You’re not sure on what planet this number would be considered racy, the tight corset makes it impossible to move quickly, the open and exposed bust leaves you completely vulnerable and the opening at the front of your skirts shows off every inch of your legs as if to say “stab me here”. You’re not even going to start on how impractical a hoop skirt is in a fight. This outfit came from one of those regular periods of highblood arrogance when they wore the most ridiculous clothes possible to show off that they were still untouchable to the lowblood peasantry. There’s a reason this stuff went out of style during a rebellion.

Speaking of uppity lowbloods who sorely need to be shown their place, yours is currently refilling her tea cup. She offers to top you up but given you’re not able to actually reach the cup, let alone drink through your gag, it’s mostly a formality on her part. As much as this tea party was her idea she doesn’t seem to have much sense of propriety about her, casually propping her feet up on the table while she reclines back and slurps loudly at her scalding leaf fluid. It’s not a very steady table, and it quivers under the weight of her leather boots, the teapot and remaining cup wobble on their tray but fortunately none of the piping hot liquid spills. Whatever Aradia is bribing Sollux with to be your tea table for the day you’re certain it’s not enough to make up for second degree burns.

“So are we going to talk or what?” Aradia quirks an eyebrow at you to go along with the question, though not without her signature smile. “I feel like you’ve been stressed out lately, but you pretend you’re okay with how things are.” She sets her tea cup and its saucer down to balance precariously between Sollux’s horns. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk it through, I know this ‘no quadrants only cuddles’ stuff Karkat’s been peddling is a little weird but I honestly don’t mind being pale with you as well as our other stuff.” She throws a wink in at the word ‘stuff’ and shoots you the ol’ double finger pistols, as if to emphasize how okay with everything she is. “But seriously, I want to hear if things are bugging you, that’s what moirails-who-sometimes-spank-each-other are for, right?” 

You don’t have a lot of room to reply around your gag, but you do your best to make the puffs of air coming out of your gills sound exasperated. This is just like Aradia, the second she thinks there’s a problem she goes out of her way to make you feel as pampered as possible. It’s not bad per se, getting treated like an adorable cuttlefish in need of a culling, but you got enough of that stuff growing up. It’s true you probably haven’t been quite so overworked in a long time, not since those nine perigrees when mom was _reely_ hungry, but setting up the new world is worth the effort, even if it does involve wrangling the entire remainder of your species into playing nicely. You might have been hatched to be an empress but that doesn’t mean you like bossing people around. Honestly, if you didn’t have Karkat and John to take the burden off you half the time you might have strangled the lot of them yourself!

Her hand is on you before you can work yourself into a proper grump. She makes it all seem so far away with the casual brush of her calloused palms against your cheek. You feel so soft against her and it’s so easy to press your face further into her hand, rubbing yourself all over her for the sweet release her touch brings. Maybe this is stuff you should be telling Aradia. She’s been so good to you, even when being good involves tying you to a chair and drinking tea obnoxiously. You’ve defiled every other quadrant together so far, if she wants you to open up more she’s done more than enough to earn that from you. She kisses you on the nose so she doesn’t have to remove your gag, it’s about as pale as a smooch can get while you’re in such a compromised position.

With your head tilted up to follow her lips you don’t notice her straddling you until you feel her weight resting on your thighs. Her skirts billow out around the two of you, the three-quarter arc of her hoop neatly encapsulating you within the prison of her embrace. As much as her blood colour might clash with the fashion historically, she looks like this style was made just for her. The fishnet patterns of her arm stockings trace the perfect design over the grey of her skin, ending in lacy bands that show off the swell of her biceps. The opening in her skirts shows off just how well worn and powerful her thighs are, crisscrossed with the rough and tumble scars a troll can only acquire fighting their way through a dig site just like some kind of action hero. She takes a style that was all about showing delicateness and vulnerability and uses it to show off her strength and experience. Every inch of her tells anyone who’s looking that she’s in charge and there’s nothing they can do to change that, right down to her ever present smile.

You wish you could put your hands on her. You wish you could touch her all over. It might spare you the discomfort of being emotionally honest with your matesprit/kismesis/moirail/somehow-also-your-auspistice for just a few minutes but they would be minutes well spent. Instead you’re trapped on this chair, held in place only partially by ropes and the weight of the troll above you, but mostly by the deft caress of her hands. Her claw tips trace around the curve of your cheekbone then out towards your fin, rubbing the soft rubbery skin between thumb and forefinger, eliciting a sigh of pleasure that somehow becomes a groan of need on passing through the gag she still has not removed. Her hand moves further back, tangling with your hair, pulling your head back to bare your throat to her. As if you could be any more vulnerable at the moment. She tugs you further back, more because you’ve told her how much you enjoy the feeling than to actually move you, and presses light delicate kisses along your gills, tonguing gently at the sensitive slits. You’re sure the warm wet air you’re exhaling directly into her face is less than sexy but it’s not a thing you can control! She just makes your body do strange things sometimes. Like making you make needy noises with just the feel of her hot breath on your fins, or making you unsheathe completely with one good hit to your oft-abused rear. She just has a power over you that has nothing to do with her psychic abilities.

After letting you stew in the sensation for a time she relents, she pulls her lips back from your throat and eases your head back up, though she keeps a firm grip on your hair. Her free hand lifts up to hold your cheek, papping you so softly and sweetly. “I know this stuff is hard for you, and I’ve heard about the communication problems you had with Eridan, so we’re going to cheat! You don’t actually have to tell me what’s bothering you, we can even pretend this is just our normal black-stuff, but I’m going to hold you close for a little while and help you relax. And if afterwards you feel like telling me what’s up then we can do that too! I just want you to feel good.” You’re now getting the distinct impression that this was her plan all along and you berate yourself for ever forgetting Aradia once commanded a thousand troll army of one through god knows how many doomed soulbots. Her cunning is not to be underestimated, no matter what shade her blood. With the hand still pressed against scalp she guides your face down onto her waiting and exposed bosom and holds you there. It’s… nice. The world is strangely peaceful when all the other sounds are dominated by the rhythmic thumping of her bloodpusher. You see the humans cuddle like this a lot. They say it’s a throwback to the way they interact with their human lusii but you know for a fact Dave didn’t get this attention from his and he’s the cuddliest one of the bunch. Rose did her best to try and explain his ‘eat-a-pool’ complex to you, but you had trouble keeping up with all the weird human hangups about genetic similarity and their apparently universal ancestor kink. At least Rose insisted that it was universal. John and Jade seemed very shocked to hear her declaration and Dave did his impression of a kettle that is boiling but also trying to do slam poetry at the same time. It was very confusing.

You’re startled to find that the gag has been gone from your mouth for some time and you’ve apparently been babbling this all out loud to Aradia, who’s been patiently stroking your hair and listening to your impression of a light player. You’re pretty much stuck staring directly into her cleavage, and the curious trail of ruby dotted freckles pooling just where her rumblespheres meet, but you like to believe you can still hear the smile in her voice while she makes noises of encouragement, letting you spill it all out. She listens to all your gripes, patiently waiting while you explain how hard it is dealing with the cultural differences and how every last one of them wants to go off and do their own thing and how you honestly had to copy the blueprints for Can Town because nobody would spend five minutes talking about town planning. Jade graciously spent some time sizing up the actual Can Town in place as a stand-in until you can replace empty tin with actual buildings. You’ll admit the Mayor has never been happier and that’s a blessing to each and every one of you but you’d like it if someone else would show some interest in getting this place up and running rather than dealing with their own pet projects.

Aradia doesn’t stop stroking your hair the whole way through, occasionally rubbing at the base of your horns with her free hand but otherwise just holding you tight against her chest. It’s strange how comforting this whole situation is. You’re a little worried that your moirail had to literally tie you up to get you to talk about what’s been bugging you but this is nice. You might ask her to do something like this again in the future. You’re not sure it would still involve a naked troll pretending to be a table in the background but the idea of being bound and just held while you talk about things seems pretty relaxing. You might ask Aradia if she would like you to do the same for her, but she’s always been more of a top.

“Okay, so people are being frustrating, but they’re trolls Feferi, even the humans are trollish enough to be that special pain in the posterior unique to our race. I think there’s something else that’s got you upset and I don’t think it’s anything the others have done.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but she doesn’t push you any harder. She’s patient, stroking your hair, humming softly so you can feel the vibration through her chest. Eventually, you let out the fear you’ve been holding on to for a while now. “I don’t think I should be in charge. I’m obviously no good at it, I think everyone just expects me to boss them around because they all thought the hemocaste gave me magic leadership powers. But I don’t have any! My leadership skills are all made up make believe FAKEY FAKEY FAKES. I’m not like Karkat or John, I can’t make people want to listen to me and pretending I deserve to be in charge like they do makes me feel like a fraud! It has taken its toll, and honestly I am really exhausted.” You smoosh your face into her cleavage, as if the soft flesh would be enough to hide you from your responsibilities. “I don’t want to be an empress anymore.”

"Good fish" Aradia rests her chin on top of you and brings her hand around to cup your cheek. “I’m so happy you told me all that my little guppy. It sucks, obviously, but I’m so glad you were able to talk about it with me. You’re such a good little swimmer for me.” Lalonde calls it operant conditioning, positive reinforcement. It's something of a turn on. “I’m so proud, I’m so happy, I’m so TABLES DON’T SNICKER, SOLLUX.”

That’s enough to push you over the edge and suddenly you’re laughing too. Aradia lifts your head up to check it’s good happy laughter and then joins in. The two of you even excuse your table breaking character a little bit longer. Then she’s kissing you, deep and hard, pushing you back into the chair and making you strain against your bonds. Her tongue eels its way past your lips, batting at your own with that playful manner that drives you wild. You try to lift yourself up off the chair and into her mouth but the ropes hold you down, and with a smug grin you can feel all along your lips Aradia rests her hands on your shoulders and forces you down.

“I do mean it, by the way. You are being very good for me, Feferi. So I think that it’s only fair such a good fish gets the reward she’s due for all her hard work.” She slithers down you like a viper, teeth and tongue pricking at you wherever she finds exposed skin, until at last she comes to rest between your legs. “Is this what my little fishy wants?” Her breath is hot against the material of your underwear. She is so very hot. You whine in the affirmative. “Then are you going to be a good little fishy for me in the future as well?” You nod, hard and fast like Equius banging his head along to that awful classical music with the loud guitars and the screaming. You exaggerate the movement as much as possible so there’s no misunderstanding as to how very much you want this. “I love you, Feferi,” is the last thing you hear before she places a big sloppy kiss right above your sheathe. You let out a moan as your bulge instantly slurps out to join the entertainment.

She wastes no time in taking your bulge in her mouth, your appendage writhing its way towards the warmth of her tongue. You can feel all the cilia stand on their ends, pulled erect as she sucks your length further past her lips. You struggle against the ropes holding you down, wanting to grab her horns and hold her tight into your crotch, but the straining only pulls your bindings taut around you. The silken material cuts in below and above and between your rumblespheres, where she’d tied that interesting star shape around you. The squeeze of their grip on your soft flesh stings so nicely, you find yourself pulling against the ropes purely to make them bite you. Aradia’s lips have finally reached the base of your bulge, your full length coiled inside her and squirming with the heat of her. You can feel intimately the difference between your two temperatures as your lubricant flows out the porous surface of your member to be dissolved and warmed by her saliva.

You try to buck into her, to somehow force yourself even further down her throat. She frustrates you and loves you and needs you and protects you, you want her in every quadrant, in every way possible. Eventually you thrust just a little bit too hard and feel yourself begin to tip back onto the hind legs of your chair. You catch a glimpse of Aradia’s eyes widen as you fall backwards and pull your bulge out of her mouth as you go.

“TABLE, CATCH THE CHAIR” is all you hear before you’re suddenly gently floating in the air. Aradia’s smiling face pops up above you and between your legs. “See? I told you extra furniture always comes in handy” You can only laugh as she lowers you down to the ground to rest. You’re on your back, hardly in the most comfortable position, but it’s not really much of a feelings jam anymore, so comfort isn’t necessary the goal. You watch your lover walk around the chair, shedding her undergarment as she goes before straddling you where you lie. Her bulge, as always, puts yours to shame,and you’re really grateful you’re not the kind to get hung up on who’s bigger because otherwise wow, you sure would be embarrassed.

She lowers herself down into your inverted lap, back against your thighs and nook hovering achingly over your bulge. You feel yourself wiggle up towards her but she’s just out of reach. You’ve been doing this for so long (well not specifically this, this is new) that you would have thought she would give up teasing you, but it’s only honed her abilities. She knows exactly how far away she has to be from your crotch such that your bulge can only infuriatingly swipe at the air before her opening. She knows exactly how long you’re capable of holding out for before you’ll break down to pleading. She knows exactly what to say to turn your pleading into moans of desperation, until all you can say anymore is how much you want to be inside her, how much you want her inside of you. When she finally (FINALLY) relents, it’s all you can do to glub in appreciation as she sinks onto your length, letting you flow into her, your bulge lashing upwards like a salmon desperate to get to the mating grounds.

She’s hardly quiet herself, cooing between soft trills as you rub on her insides. You’re apparently more dextrous with your trollhood than most of her partners and you know exactly where to touch her insides to make her come undone. The teasing domme act is thoroughly gone, swept away with the grinding motion she uses to force herself done on you, crushing your bulge so very pleasantly where the angle of your ingress is just wrong. Even the table seems to be getting into it, from the sounds of rough panting coming from his side of the room. You don’t want to take your eyes off Aradia but you can just imagine that golden bulge of his dangling unattended between his legs. Such a shame his wicked friends left him in such a predicament while they enjoy themselves in such close proximity! You’d almost feel bad if he didn’t beg for this kind of play whenever you give him the opportunity.

Aradia brings her hand down to tangle with herself, rubbing her calloused them lovingly over her bulge. You know from experience how nice that feels. What you don’t know is how she can make such a show of masturbating that you wish your bulge was in her hand rather than her nook. Or in both at once, ideally. Unfortunately we can’t all be lucky split-bulged mutants and so you’ll just have to settle for the clench of her nook around you as your lubricants mix and prepare the both of you for the eventual combination of your slurry. She must be close, from the way you can see her tip flicking back and forward, like an irritated meowbeast ready to pounce. She’s tightening around you inside now, you’re so near yourself, you meet her eyes to see if she’s ready for you but the sight of that ridiculous grin of hers alone is enough to push you over. You’re not done filling her with your fuchsia load when you feel her start to release, ruby slurry cascading down her hands to pool on your corset. You give brief consideration to the realisation that you’re probably irreversibly staining a garment older than all of your friends put together before deciding you don’t actually care. For her part Aradia seems to be taking great pleasure in the desecration of the historical relic as wave after wave squirts out of her to splash down on your torso.

Clean up is thankfully pretty quick. Aradia gets you back on your feet and unties you from the cacophony of rope and spends some time checking all your joints are working fine and massaging muscles where they’ve been strained. The two of you strip out of your outfits and empty the teapot before heading to the bath for some aftercare. As you’re leaving you could swear you hear something along the lines of “Wait, you guys aren’t seriously just going to leave me here are you?” But that would be silly. Tables can’t talk.


End file.
